


Bazaar

by bordello_blues



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, M/M, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 07:35:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bordello_blues/pseuds/bordello_blues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony is a tease. Loki is demanding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bazaar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [resurrection_en_menthe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/resurrection_en_menthe/gifts).



> For my bestie, who was studying for crazy med school tests and needed inspiration to do well, so I filled prompts for her. She demanded sex in public with Ironfrost. There cannot be less plot. If there were, I'm afraid the world would implode.
> 
> (Insert usual disclaimers here)

Tony is washing his hands in the dim light of Bazaar’s bathroom when he feels arms winding about his waist. Fingers slip beneath the band of his slacks and he’s glad that the soap comes in a pump, or he absolutely would have dropped it. Glancing up at the mirror he meets Loki’s gaze – the hunger he sees in it is predatory, intimidating, and not entirely suited to their surroundings. Given he’d been moaning obscenely (and intentionally) around his “Philly cheesesteak” not ten minutes ago, so he’s only brought it upon himself. Places like The Bazaar aren’t really Tony’s style, but Loki is fascinated by the idea of air bread and lemon air and micro cilantro; he loves olive spherification and passion fruit foam and Caipirinha’s frozen over liquid nitrogen. ‘[Molecular cuisine] is like magic,’ he says over coffee that morning. So Tony rolls his eyes, has Jarvis make reservations and foots the bill; then he spends the entirety of their four hundred dollar dinner lasciviously moaning over every bite and provocatively wrapping his tongue around every utensil he comes across. Until now, he had thought that he was being ignored, but that’s only until he feels the heat of Loki’s erection pressing into his ass.

  
“You did not,” Loki hisses into his ear, “Allow me to enjoy my ‘your life will change dashi linguini.’” Somehow he makes it sound simultaneously furious and aroused.

Tony’s knees go weak.

Calmly, he grasps Loki by the wrists and pulls the hands out of his pants (he does not miss the fingers that had been inching promisingly lower). As he spins and ducks around the circle of the god’s arms, Tony can’t help but think that he much prefers the battle armor to Loki’s Midgardian attire, while still sexy there’s something about all that leather, and the gold – opulent, yet understated. The horns make for a good handhold, too.

The thought alone sends arousal creeping across his skin, blood rushing south fast enough to almost leave him light-headed. He barely manages to make it through the door before Loki is pressing him into the wall opposite and draping himself across Tony’s back. A tongue darts out to taste the shell of his ear and he whimpers. He can’t move, not when Loki uses all of his godly strength to keep him pinned in place – in plain view of waiters, patrons and busboys, no less. It should not be nearly as stimulating as it is.

“This is what will happen now.” He says, and clenches one hand over Tony’s mouth to discourage interruptions, “Seeing as my predicament,” it’s punctuated with a roll of his hips, “Is entirely your fault, you will drop to your knees and allow me to take my pleasure as I see fit.”

Muted by Loki’s hand, Tony can’t voice his indignant squawk.  
“This is not a request,” the god turns him around, an insistent, borderline painful pressure on Tony’s shoulders forces him to his knees. “I desire your mouth, and I will have it, now.” Casually, Loki pulls his belt loose and shoves his pants just low enough to free his straining erection. Tony moans. “As I wish to return to this establishment, I have taken the precaution of casting an invisibility spell.”

Bullshit, Tony thinks; he levels a knowing look at his lover and opens his mouth. What he doesn’t expect is the ferocity with which Loki grabs him by the head and sinks in. It really does feel like being had, but Tony lets it happen – it’s much too late in the game to make any changes. There is something devastatingly sexy about Loki when he’s in full ‘Prince of Asgard’ mode; and even if this isn’t what he’d expected of dinner, it is absolutely worth it. He braces his hands on the back of Loki’s thighs and glances up at the god, forgets to breathe for a second at what he sees. Because the god has a flush working its way across his cheekbones and his lip caught in his teeth; his eyes, half-lidded focus on Tony’s – behind the lust there’s a genuine, lurking affection.

A group of three girls walk by, inches away from them, and Tony tracks them with his eyes, nearly chokes as Loki leans one hand on the wall and in doing so pushes his cock even further down Tony’s throat. If the paparazzi could see them now they would have a field day: a Norse god, who also happens to be the big bad of the decade fucking Iron Man’s mouth, who happens to be taking it like a pro. Tony hums in satisfaction, even as he tries to ignore the burn brought on by Loki’s punishing pace. Valiantly, he struggles to breathe through his nose; it is not, judging by the pants escaping the god, a battle that he is fighting alone. A rotund, older gentleman turns into the hallway – Tony hollows his cheeks and sucks, hard. Above him, Loki curses, and hips stuttering, comes. The man that has joined them in the hall looks around in confusion, but if he hears the slick pop with which Loki extricates himself from Tony’s mouth, there is no way he could tell where it’s coming from.

Shakily, knees protesting and dick painfully hard against the zip of his slacks, Tony stands to lean against the wall. Loki looks debauched for the length of time it takes to tuck himself back into his pants, and then he shakes it off.

“You look sinful,” Loki leans in to whisper into Tony’s ear, one hand slowly sliding down his chest. “The things I will do to you later.”

“I hope that’s a promise,” Tony manages, snaking an arm around the god to pull them flush. But Loki disentangles himself gracefully and steps away just as the group of girls from before walks by them again.

“You know,” he says and palms at Tony through his pants, “Ironcock is much more suitable as code names go.”


End file.
